Dislocated
by CheekyBrunette
Summary: The boys are in the studio when James accidently hurts Logan's wrist! What happens when a minor injury leads to something more in depth? **For Little Miss Oops Cause She Asked**


**Today I had to walk home in the pouring rain (my bus stop is FOREVER from my house) and within three seconds out the door I was soaked. So I took off my shoes and jumped in puddles the whole way home. IT WAS AWESOME! My pants got really wet though...**

**This was requested by Little Miss Oops who's writing "Secrets", which I'm sure you've all read. Bwahaha, I love that story because I tend to force her to do what I want with it. But, seriously, she's pretty awesome, so go check it out! I HOPE I DID HIS GOOD BY YOU! **

Sweat poured the boys, drenching their hairlines and soaking their t-shirts. Their breath puffed out in ragged pants as they tripped over their own feet again and again. Mr. X scowled as all four of them fell on their faces for what felt like the millionth time that day. He demonstrated the dance they had been trying to pull of for the past three hours and clapped his hands, watching in distaste as they stumbled through the steps, tumbling like dominos as they reached that one part where they "just keep getting stuck, stuck," quite literally. Frustration set deep into all their expressions.

After a few more failed attempts, Mr. X gave himself a break, too annoyed to look at them anymore. Carlos groaned, doubling over himself. "I think that last one broke a rib!" he wailed, adding an impressive moan on to the end. Kendall rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"It takes more that that to break a rib," he said from experience. That, of course, didn't stop Carlos from rolling around in fake agony on the ground, eyes open wide and tongue hanging out. Logan laughed and tickled the Latino's stomach, bright smiles painting both of their faces. James's mouth however, was locked in a heavy frown. He crossed his arms and glowered down at his feet, irritation clear on his face.

"Why can't I get this?" he asked no one in particular, getting up from his spot on the floor with the guys. "It's just cross," he instructed himself, layering his ankles, "jump, spin, and-AHH!" he yelled as he toppled over himself and onto Logan. There was a loud popping sound as the pale boy's wrist bent backward. James bounced off him immediately he ran his fingers through his messy hair in worry. "Did I break it?" he asked nervously. Logan, who was laying on the ground, gripping his forearm, shook his head and grit his teeth together.

"No," he grunted, "just dislocated it with maybe a small fracture," he informed him, drawing his conclusion partly from his medical knowledge and partly from knowing how a break felt in comparison to anything else. You don't play hockey for ten years _and_ hang out with his friends for twelve without gaining more than a wanted amount of knowledge and tolerance for pain. But that didn't stop the tears from welling behind his eyes as he clutched his wrist on the floor. "I'll go take care of it," he said, excusing himself from the room before he had the chance to start crying in front of his friends.

Logan hated that he was the weakest in the group. He couldn't stand always the smallest, the leanest, and most emotional. His whole life felt like one big puddle of not-good-enough. Sure, Carlos could sometimes be a crier, and James could get quickly worked up about things, but that didn't stop either of them from being able to throw Logan over their shoulders like a beach towel and carrying him around for a couple hours. His friends also had more confidence.

Logan had never known his friends to once not walk around with their heads held high. Maybe it was because they had more muscle. Maybe it was because they were never picked on. Maybe it was because their home lives had been better growing up. Heck, maybe they were drinking some magic potion they just didn't feel like sharing. Logan was an introvert among extrovert . These were his thoughts as he made his way over to the med cabinet, a new and necessary addition Roque Records, and started taping his arm.

He started when Kendall walked up wordlessly behind him, taking it from him and wrapping his wrist silently. His hands worked fluidly, a sure sign of practice. Countless time spent setting bones and taping hockey sticks had taught him well. He finished off the roll and looked up at Logan, their eyes locking. He spoke slowly as he swam into uncharted territory, "Why do you always think you need to be strong around us?" Logan flushed and looked at his bandaged arm, horribly embarrassed. He stayed silent and Kendall arched an eyebrow. "You know, it scares Carlos." Logan's head whipped up.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confusion reigning over his features.

"Well, he's all used to sharing everything, and I mean _everything_," he said with a shudder, thinking about the Latino's complete and utter lack of modesty and sent up a prayer in thanks that Katie had somehow managed to have not seen, you know, _all_ of him yet, "and he's worried you'll explode if you keep them all bottled up." Logan laughed nervously, waving him off, but Kendall sent him a hard look that made him squirm. "Listen, Logan," he started, sending a pang of worry through his chest, "do I ever make you feel bad about yourself?" he asked, and Logan gagged. Sure, it hurt sometimes when Kendall would tell him to man up and take risks, but he didn't want him to know about that! It would just make him feel like he'd have to 'man up' more! He gulped.

"W-w-why would you ask that?" he stammered, knowing his defense was weak. Kendall rolled his eyes, but his face quickly fell solemn again. One of the things Logan had really missed out on a kid was the whole "loving touch" sort of thing, his dad was sort of... horrible, and what he craved more than anything from people was contact. Logan was extremely lucky because, while he would never actually reach out to someone, his friends were all extremely touchy people. So needless to say, he was elated when Kendall put his comforting, warm hand on his shoulder.

"How?" he asked, his mouth sounding sticky and dry. Logan sighed and didn't answer, but Kendall hadn't expected him to. Instead of pressing, he opted to wrap an arm around his thin shoulders and sigh. "I'm sorry," he apologized, knowing exactly what for. He was the leader. Of course, he knew.

Logan's stomach churned with guilt. "It's okay," he assured him, wringing his hands together. "I'm just..." he scowled and spat the word, "sensitive." Kendall turned him to face each other instantaneously at this. His eyes shone with something Logan couldn't quite place, and his eyebrows furrowed together. Logan wanted to look away, but his serious expression had him hooked.

"Logan, don't... don't say that like it's a bad thing," Kendall said desperately. "I mean, I don't like it when you're upset, but that's because I'm worried, not because it's not okay." Kendall looked really intense about this; it was sort of disconcerting. "I mean, James cries and gets upset sometimes. Heck, Carlos cries all the time! Even I can get sad, we've all had really..." he trailed off, hesitating to find the best word, "_tough_ pasts, you especially, so we'd all understand if-"

"NO!" Logan shrieked, cutting him off all of a sudden, the floodgates opening as Kendall reminded him of life back in Minnesota. "Don't you get it? That's _why_ I have to be strong!" He buried his face into Kendall's shirt, clinging to him like someone might try to tear him away. "I can't let you see me like _he_ did," he sobbed quietly. Kendall held his quaking form gently, fingers lacing through his short hair.

"We'll never look at you the way your dad did, Logie," Kendall reminded him, hoping that he'd finally believe it after his billionth time saying it. Logan tried to pull away, to stop crying, but Kendall held him close. "Let it all out this time," he said, and Logan took him up on that because somehow, this time,

It felt good to cry.

**Alright guys. So that's that... It was ORIGINALLY going to be more about Logan feeling like he didn't fit in more. So it was going to be a clever thing with the title: dislocated wrist, dislocated with his friends. Yeah. So that's that, and I just now feel attached to this title, so that's why that is...**

**And, I left most of Logan's past up to you guys, because... I don't know. I was half lazy, and I actually LOVE when people do that (cause it makes me feel all worried) YAY!**


End file.
